


How can we forget the gentle breezes, the calm waves?

by intrepidity



Series: Akakuro Week 2016 [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AkaKuro Week, AkaKuro Week 2016, Akashi can play the piano, Alternate Universe - Music, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Kuroko is a Pianist, M/M, Unsure what era this is in, but it is definitely not the 21st century
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrepidity/pseuds/intrepidity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a lonely young businessman meets a musician with a unique outlook on life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How can we forget the gentle breezes, the calm waves?

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this is tbh but it'll get better k  
> My internet connection died and now I am using my neighbor's wifi to post this fic :)))  
> un-edited, initially intended for 11th april but F#$% you, wifi!

  
Ever since he was a child, Akashi Seijuro was attracted to music.

Most of his prominent childhood memories somehow involved his late mother and soft, melodious music. Sometimes in the background, others with his mother singing.

It was the reason that in a home - no, a house with lifeless people in it - that comprised of grays, dusky browns and blacks, there sat a white grand piano in an empty, dusty room.

He remembered glimpses of his gentle mother softly guiding his small hands with her slender ones, teaching him how to create beautiful pieces of music by pressing black and white keys.

Seijuro stopped playing the day her illness took her away, though.

Despite the fact that he had no use of the awe-inspiring instrument, he still kept it in his house and cleaned it on the night of every full moon, himself. The entire dark-paneled room was covered with dust. The old armchairs and sofas, the large bookshelves and the books sitting in the spaces of that shelf. No one was allowed to set foot in Seijuro's safe heaven.

It was another full-moon night.

There was twenty-three year old male, sitting atop the piano bench. Moonlight shone through the large windows, their curtains held back, illuminating the room in a pale glow. The white of the grand piano contrasted with Seijuro's red hair. Fair fingers traced the surface of the instrument slowly, particles of dust clung to the skin, brownish gray with pinkish white.

Seijuro picked up the cloth laying on the floor beside him, and carefully started cleaning the dust on the keys of the piano.

 

  
_"Wonderful, Sei-chan!" his mother praised, clad in a flowy white dress, as she sat on the long sofa opposite to the piano he was sat at. "You play this peace very well."_

  
_Seijuro beamed with pride, and continued playing the melody his mother loved so much. Small fingers pressed the black and white keys of the grand instrument confidently, the smile on his young face never faltering._

  
_He let out a happy laugh as his mother started singing to the music, Seijuro's red eyes gleaming with admiration for the woman that sat before him._

  
_"How can we forget those gentle breezes, the calm waves?" she sang, a smile of her own decorating her soft  features. "The true essence of our memories designed, the blissful moments and those clear-skied days?"_

 

  
Unconsciously, his waxen fingers ghosted over the cold keys, his heart aching to indulge in the desire to play the same melody that lingered in his ears.

Nostalgia was certainly taxing.

\--

It was a Friday evening, and Seijuro sat in a restaurant, in the company of his childhood friend, Midorima Shintaro.

After a particularly stressful day at work, the red-haired male was exhausted. Due to his utmost dislike of a large amount of people, he always chose bars and restaurants that were relatively less crowded than most.

That day was no exception.

As he slid into a booth at the end of the dim-lit _The Drop_ with a drink in his hand, waiting Shintaro to return with his own, Seijuro's eyes spotted a cavalier on a slightly raised podium. He watched it for a few moments, curiously, before resuming to read the book he brought with him.

Within a few moments, the scarlet eyed man was joined by his companion and they began discussing matters regarding their respective jobs and activities. He didn't notice the person who walked past him, towards the dark wood piano.

Seijuro's ears picked up at the sound of gentle music reverberating through the wooden walls of the small bar. Silently appreciating the skillful playing of the pianist, he resumed conversing with his green-haired friend.

Several minutes passed, and the ice in Shintaro's glass had melted, forming a dull pink color, water mixed with remaining drops of red wine.

When the casual, soft opening notes to his favorite melody began ringing through the restaurant, the young businessman felt his heart starting to beat faster.

Recognition immediately clicked into him, and his head snapped in the direction from which the music was coming from. His eyes landed on a male, not much younger than himself, with powder-blue hair and milky skin.

Taken aback by his company's sudden reaction to the melody, Shintaro frowned with concern. "Akashi, are you alright?" he asked, bandaged fingers ceasing their motion of tracing the rim of his wineglass.

Broken out of his stunned reverie, Seijuro turned back to look at his friend. "Ah, yes," he nodded. "I apologize."

Unconvinced, Shintaro still nodded, deciding to leave matters that did not directly involve him alone.

They continued their discussion about the latest politics, although both young men were aware of Seijuro's distraction.

An hour passed, and after having a small meal together, Shintaro parted ways with Seijuro outside the Victorian varnished doors, collars of his trench coat upturned to prevent the cold wind from getting into his ears.

Seijuro didn't go home right away, though. Instead, the red haired young man made his way back inside the restaurant, quietly walking towards the raised podium.

Much to his disappointment, he observed that the blue haired male was not in his expected place. Instead, there sat a young woman with hair and eyes the color of cherry blossom petals.

Seijuro cleared his throat. "Excuse me, miss, but could you tell me where the young gentleman who was playing the piano a while ago went?" he asked, hands slipping inside his coat pockets.

The young woman looked up from the musical notes and blinked at him. "He just finished his shift, sir," she replied, rosy eyes watching him curiously.

Seijuro nodded. "Thank you for your help." he responded, giving the woman a small smile before turning around to walk out of the bar.

As he quietly made his way out of _The Drop_ , carefully avoiding bumping into other people, his gaze landed on a mop of cerulean hair. Without wasting a second, Seijuro quickly wove through the crowded London streets, speeding towards the young man walking farther and farther away.

A little distance away, the twenty-something businessman cupped his hands around his mouth, " _Excuse me!_ " he called out, and a few people halted to a stop, thinking it was them being called. Fortunately, the youth Seijuro was chasing was one of those people.

Big, blue eyes had hints of surprise swimming in them when the red haired male walked towards the pianist. Teal eyebrows raised slightly, questioning. "May I help you, sir?" the youth asked in a silvery voice, looking up at Seijuro who stood a few inches above him.

"I just wanted to ask," Seijuro quickly responded, in a modulated tone, looking at the pianist with interest. "How do you know that song?" he inquired, his heartrate increasing.

The boy frowned, confused. "What song?" he asked, studying the young man warily. "I play quite a lot of songs, you see, sir," he continued, slowly taking steps away from Seijuro.

Seijuro shook his head, "The one in E-flat major," he responded. It was getting late, and he felt bad for keeping the blue-haired pianist from returning home.

Recognition dawned on the youthful musician, and he nodded, a small smile gracing his simple features. "Ah, yes," his posture was a little more relaxed now. "I suppose I've always known that song, sir," he replied, cerulean eyes taking an almost undetectable reminiscing tinge.

Dispirited, Seijuro apologized for taking up the young man's time. "I hope I did not hold you back from an important matter?" he asked, taking a glance at his wrist watch, which told him that it was half-past nine in the evening.

The boy quickly shook his head, bringing up pale hands in front of him in a defensive and dismissive manner. "Not at all, sir." he smiled.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Seijuro blurted out, "Excuse me, sir, but may I know your name?" he asked, crimson eyes observing as wariness crossed the pianist's expression.

After a moment, the blue eyed boy responded. "Tetsuya, sir," he spoke, "Kuroko Tetsuya."

Seijuro smiled, and returned the favor. "Akashi Seijuro," he said, offering the young musician a hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Kuroko Tetsuya smiled back, clasping Seijuro's hand in his own in a short handshake. "Pleasure,"

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter is going to be longer, I promise. I'm not used to writing multiple chapters, so this is a challenge for me.   
> Please share your thoughts in the comments! :)


End file.
